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earthbaby-angelboy · 11 months

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hello all you beautiful people!

a little unknown fact about me: i love reading! i mainly read reference material and nonfiction, but i don't mind the occasional fiction! i have plenty of friends on here who like reading (after all, you're on my page!) and who love elvis, so i figured i'd make a compendium of books that were adapted into elvis' movies.

it will be organized by the movie / the year it came out, and the story / its author. i'll also include a little description of each.

-love me tender (1956) & the story of the reno gang: this movie was not based on a story, but actual historical events! the reno gang were a group of brothers who went around the midwest robbing trains. clinton reno was a real person, the youngest of the five brothers (his nickname was "honest", as he never got involved with any criminal activity pertaining to his brothers.)

-loving you (1957) & a call from mitch miller by mary agnes thompson: the movie was based on a short story by mary agnes thompson that was featured in the june 1956 edition of good housekeeping.

-king creole (1958) & a stone for danny fisher by harold robbins: king creole was the first of el's movies to be based on an entire book! the role was originally meant for james dean, and was set in the backstreets of new york city.

-flaming star (1960) & flaming lance by clair huffaker: this was one of two movies where the original author was involved in creating the screenplay.

-wild in the country (1961) & the lost country by j.r. salamanca: although some creative liberties were taken (el's character went from an artist to a writer and hope lange's character became a psychiatrist rather than a teacher), it still followed the same plot as the original novel. it was also the first to feature elvis on a published paperback.

-follow that dream (1962) & pioneer, go home! by richard p. powell: the novel is based on a family from new jersey (WOOT WOOT), and although technically based on the book, the movie takes many creative liberties to the point of it being almost completely opposite the original source material.

-stay away, joe (1968) & stay away, joe by dan cushman: this is what el considered his first "serious" role. although involving some incredibly racist stereotypes, it is rooted in some truth about elvis' lineage: his great-great-great grandmother was a cherokee woman named morning white dove, and some attribute his high cheekbones and striking features to his distant native ancestry.

-live a little, love a little (1968) & kiss my firm but pliant lips by dan greenburg: the movie, like follow that dream, was so loosely based on the book that it was almost completely opposite the original source material.

-charro! (1969) & charro! by harry whittington: this is the only "officially endorsed" book based on an elvis movie.

-the trouble with girls (1969) & chautauqua by day keene: this is my absolute favorite movie of all time, and ironically, there is no information about the book's plot. based on what i've gathered from other sources, it follows an almost identical plot to the movie. unfortunately, the author died 9 months prior to the movie's release.

-change of habit (1969) & title-not-available by richard morris and john joseph: according to wikipedia, change of habit was based on a story written by richard morris and john joseph. i've scoured the internet under both of those names, and found nothing! oh well.

i hope you all had as much fun reading this as i did writing this, and be sure to shoot me a message if you read any of these!

(...or if you find a reasonably priced copy of chautauqua.)

-all my love, calla xx @kiankiwi @arianatheangel-girl @mooodyblue

#elvis presley #elvis books #elvis cinematic universe #love me tender (1956)#loving you (1957)#king creole (1958)#flaming staar (1960)#wild in the country (1961)#follow that dream (1962)#stay away joe (1968)#live a little love a little (1968)#charro! (1969)#the trouble with girls (1969)#change of habit (1969)

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saintmurd0ck · 1 year

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cherry red

masterlist

pairing: frank castle x f!reader

summary: you and frank break into a vintage car dealership to scope something out for agent madani, and it turns out that you have a little time to spare before the drop happens

warnings: mentions of cocaine (no drug use), breaking and entering, the FBI lmao, shameless flirting, calling frank big boy, pain kink if you squint, (very little) spit because how else do you up frank's pleasure *gunshot*, unprotected p in v, creampie, goodbye i'm going to bed

a/n: for everyone who agrees that frank should be called 'big boy', this is for you!!! also this is my first full length frank fic lets fucking go

There’s not a sound but the rustle of your clothes as you case the dealership, Frank following closely behind you. He looks over his shoulders—a cautionary measure, despite the fact that the owners are on the other side of the world—before thumbing at the light switch on the wall.

Fluorescent lights flicker on in stages, a steady, low hum of electricity filling the space. Your eyes squint as you adjust to the brightness.

Frank looses a bated breath. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit,” you affirm, casting your gaze across the almost-cavernous, windowless room. Rows and rows of vintage cars stare back, their timeless, luxurious finishes glinting in the white light.

“That’s gotta be worth more than…” you trail off, looking down at your hands.

“Twenty-two million dollars. This room alone,” Frank finishes.

You swear, stepping forwards to skim your fingers along a chromed side mirror, then bending down to check your reflection. “So what are we looking for again?”

Frank sets his duffel bag down onto the reception desk, careful not to disturb the fanned business cards adorning the surface. “Guns, coke, contraband,” he lists. “Whatever we can find.”

“Hmm.”

“What?” Frank asks, bewildered. His attention snaps to you.

“Is there a car in particular we’re looking for?”

“Honestly sweetheart, I dunno. If we gotta sweep every single one, that’s what we gotta do.”

You push up off your knees, weaving in and out of the cars. “Before the auction, yeah?”

“S’right,” he grunts, pulling out a silver crowbar. “Smart girl.”

Ignoring the heat now searing your face, you focus on trying to name the cars, although you really only recognise a few of them.

Your eyes warily glaze over a black 1962 Chevrolet Corvette, its headlights polished to perfection. Next to it there are a number of vintage Ferraris, one Aston Martin, and a newer model Rolls Royce in the corner.

But one car in particular snags your eye, knocking the breath from you.

Frank whistles. “She’s pretty.”

You shoot him an incredulous glare, slightly offended he’d say that about the car and not you.

He’s not wrong, though.

It’s an old Mercedes. A 1961 Roadster, you think, marvelling at the almost pearlescent ivory paint restoration, the perfectly polished hubcaps, and the smooth leather interior of the deepest cherry red. You’re transfixed as you hear the engine in your mind, the revving beneath your feet, feeling the phantom breeze ruffling your hair as you speed down the highway with no destination in mind.

“You know what I think?” Frank says, clearing his throat, but you’re caught in your fever dream, music blaring from a shut-off radio that’s only active in your head. “I think…” he trails off, voice dropping to a bare whisper.

You whirl around as a loud clang drags you back to the present, one of the gleaming Mercedes-Benz hubcaps laying flat on the ground.

“What the hell, Frank?” you glower, eyes widening.

He responds with a grunt as he moves to the driver’s side, leaning his bodyweight into the crowbar as the next hubcap pops off.

Your hands fly to your face as he continues to move around the car, vandalising it beyond—

Oh.

The corners of Frank’s mouth curl into a wry smirk. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

He motions for you to come over, using his crowbar to pry out several small, duct-tape-wrapped packages from inside the wheel. “Dumbest fuckin’ hiding place I’ve ever seen.”

He pats the passenger door. “Gotta give it to ‘em, though. Moving drugs through cars at an auction? It’s a Ponzi scheme, but a goddamn good one.”

“This what I think it is?” you ask, crouching down next to him, irresolutely turning one of the bricks over.

He nods, pulling a knife tucked into his boot before sticking it into one of the packages. He dips his hand into the opening, rubbing what looks to be a white powder in between his fingers.

“Time to call Madani,” he grits, placing the brick back on the ground. “Could you do that f’me, sweetheart?”

Biting your lip, you pull out your phone to dial Madani’s number, wincing as Frank digs out the rest of the cocaine from your beloved Roadster. In eager anticipation, she picks up after the first ring, and the drop is arranged for 2.30 AM.

That leaves you thirty minutes to spare.

“So, Frank,” you remark, tucking your phone back in your pocket, “do we need to check any of the other cars?”

He sets the crowbar on the ground, getting up to lean against the front passenger side door. “Nah,” he replies, folding his arms across his chest, “FBI’s problem now.”

The growing smile on your face turns suggestive. “Guess we have time to kill before they show up, hm?”

Frank cocks his head. “And what’s that supposed to mean, sweetheart?”

You stride towards him, reaching out your hands to uncross his arms so they lay straight at his sides. Trailing the tip of your index finger up his chest, you circle the outline of his mouth. It catches on his bottom lip as you drag it back down, and he shudders at the lightness of your touch.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, big boy?” you grin.

He moves off the car, rolling his eyes as you saunter to the driver’s side, brows furrowing as you go to unlatch the door. The red leather is cool beneath you as you slide in, hands instinctively going to grip the wheel. Imagining the engine roaring to life, you press your foot down on the accelerator, as far as it’ll go.

“You’re playing with me, aren’t you?” Frank chuckles, running a hand through his hair.

“Maybe,” you muse, aware of the mischievous glint in your eyes. “If that’s something you want.”

“You haven’t had any of the white stuff, have ‘ya? ‘Cause you’re sure acting like it.”

“Dick,” you swear. “We’re surrounded by nice cars, Frank. How do you expect me to behave?” Taking your hands off the wheel, you twist in your seat to face him. “Surely they’d have the keys here somewhere, right?”

He scoffs. “Yeah, like they’d keep the keys to a four hundred thousand dollar car here.”

“Awww,” you pout, “but I wanna go for a ride.”

Frank’s ears perk up. “S’that so?”

You lean back against the seat, running your tongue over your lips. “In this car.”

“What, and you think I can help with that?”

You bat your eyes at him. “Don’t get too flattered, but I think you’re the only person in the world who can help with that right now.”

“Right now?” he shoots back. “Just right now, huh?”

“Shut up and get over here before I rescind my request, Castle.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him move that fast, because he climbs into the passenger side, scrambling to get you on his lap.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, hands finding your waist, guiding you back and forth over his hardening cock. His breath fans your neck as he nips at your pulse, spreading his legs apart on the seat.

You tip your chin downwards, your lips messily crashing into his, his mouth—his body—warm and supple against yours. He shifts his hips, slotting himself between your thighs and into the one place you need him most. At this rate, the friction of your clothing is almost too much to bear, but you’ve always been one to toe the line between pain and pleasure.

Especially when Frank’s involved.

Your body clenches as he palms your clit, groaning your name into your skin, etching kisses along the curve of your jaw. He skirts the hem of your top, slipping his tongue into your mouth before lifting it over your head, leaving it in a scandalous pile on the driver’s side.

“Naughty girl,” he laughs dryly, adding your bra to the pile along with his own shirt. “Tell me this isn’t what you thought of first when you saw the car.” He stiffens as you catch his bottom lip with your teeth.

“Don’t tell me you aren’t enjoying it,” you croon, the jovial note of your amusement diffusing itself into the vast space of the dealership. Your fingers roam along the plane of his stomach, feeling his abs contort underneath your touch. “Pretty boy.”

Resting his hands on either side of your spine, Frank swipes his thumbs over your nipples, intently staring as you throw your head back, rolling your hips into his. You squeeze your thighs into his sides as he seals his mouth over one of your breasts, flicking his tongue over the pebbled flesh.

“Bruise—“ he groans, his voice caught in a hoarse whisper. Oh, right, you remember, looking down at the purple splotch stretching across the ribs on his right side.

But you don’t let up, not when he’s driving you mad and touching you like this. You dig your knee into the bruise lightly, waiting for his body to seize, for his panting to echo before putting it back down on the seat.

“You’re a fuckin’— animal—“

Something compels you to do it again, but he slaps your leg away, retaliating by sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You cry out his name, the echo of it thundering in your ears.

“Dick,” you gasp, slamming your palms into his chest. You gripe at the fact that he loses himself in a quiet sort of laughter, and that he’s all chiseled muscle and not putty in your hands.

“You insulting me or s’that what you want?”

The mirthful gleam in his eyes flicker as he looks you up and down, waiting for your next move.

“Fine,” you say, a little too scornful considering the situation you’ve found yourself in, moving to undo his belt. Pausing once to take your own pants off, your fingers move deftly to unbutton his jeans before you tug them down and off his legs. Not taking your gaze off of him, you brace one hand on his shoulder while the other slowly creeps up his thigh.

Frank squirms beneath you, his lips pressing into a thin line as you cup his balls. Your breathing turns shallow as you wrap your hand around his shaft, running your thumb over the precum glistening on the head of his cock.

“Fuckin’— shit—,“ he hisses as you squeeze him. You hinge forward to nip his earlobe, to whisper filthy nothings in his ear, but he bucks his hips upwards, almost reflexively.

And that is something too good to pass up.

“Feel good, Frankie?” you ask, moving to stroke him up and down, ensuring your pace is just shy of what he likes on himself.

“Mm—“

“I think this’ll feel better,” you interject, pausing to spit on his cock.

Frank’s mouth parts in a wide groan at the added lubrication, and the way you’ve so brazenly spat on him, narrowly missing the priceless cherry red leather. Not that having sex in this car isn’t already brazen to begin with.

Clambering back onto his lap, you nudge his cock into your opening, coating him in the slick of your arousal. You press your face against his cheek as he pushes himself inside you, moaning into his mouth at the sensation of his thick head stretching you out. It burns, but it burns so fucking good.

He grits his teeth as he eases you down on him, guiding you inch-by-inch until you're so full you can barely breathe, your core tightening to the point where you wonder if he can feel pleasure at all.

He reminds you that yes, in fact he can, because he's cursing under his breath, gripping the dashboard so goddamn hard you think he might leave half-moon marks in the shape of his nails. He jerks his hips into yours, driving himself so deep you see stars for a second, whispering into the trance of your intimacy that you're his girl and that you feel so fuckin' tight he might burst at any given moment.

Now accommodated to his size, you fling your arms around his neck as you begin to move, resting your forehead against his. You roll your hips in languid, circular motions, fingers curling in the short hair at the nape of his neck.

"God fucking damn, Frank," you whimper, switching to bounce on his lap, holding onto the top of the seat for extra support. He sends you into a catatonic state of delirium as his thick cock hits deeper in this position, and soon you're squeezing around him, crying his name and falling over the edge of satisfaction.

Frank buries his face in your tits as you collapse onto his chest, your body still moving to the rhythm pounding inside your head.

"Hey, hey sweetheart," he says gently, moving to caress your jaw. "You okay?"

You flash him a weak smile, holding out a thumbs-up. "Keep going, Frank. M'not done yet."

"You sure?"

Raising your hips only to slam them back down on his seems to give him the reassurance he's seeking. Thrill shoots up your spine as he pulls you into him, wrapping his arms around your waist.

His tone is nothing short of wicked. "I do as I'm told, yeah?"

He drills himself into you, setting a ruthless pace, mouth roving over every accessible inch of bare skin. You thank every god you can think of for making this place soundproof, because the two of you would be so incredibly dead if anyone could hear the sounds coming from your mouth.

You fall apart on his cock more times than you can count, burying your face in his neck as Frank's thrusts become more erratic and sloppy, his strokes faltering with every passing second.

"M'gonna cum for you," he groans, throwing his head back against the seat and lurching his arm towards the top of the windscreen. He presses one last open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone as his hips stutter, spilling every last drop inside you.

"Fuck," he whispers, his cock twitching as you finally muster the energy to get off of him. He looks down at himself, horrified, and you follow his eye line to the mess on the seat between his thighs.

You choke, caught between a laugh and a gasp, equally panicking at how you're going to clean it up and possibly more importantly, how Madani isn't going to figure out what you've just done.

"Guess we can call this hard evidence for the FBI?" you sputter, trying your best to swallow your growing smirk.

Frank's cheeks turn red as he blows out a breath. "S'alright. This belonged to an asshole and it was gonna be bought by an even bigger one." He shrugs. "If I can't put 'em down, this is the least they owe me."

"You know Frankie, sometimes your logic is flawed, but I think you're right on this one."

He goes to smack your ass, but as you pull your panties on, your phone lights up in the footwell of the car, its shrill ringtone deafening to your ears.

MADANI

You glance at Frank, a humorous expression dancing across your face. "Good timing, huh?"

"Ain't that right."

tags {x} for all my frank girlies!!! <3 (I'M SORRY IF I FORGOT SOMEONE I'M SO NOT OK RIGHT NOW)

@marvelswh0re @murdock-and-the-sea @itwasthereaminuteago @munsonownsmyass @reborn-rekall @castlesnchurches @chellestrash @darlingshane @chvoswxtch @stress--relief @pedrito-friskito

#frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher smut #the punisher x reader #the punisher fanfiction #frank castle fanfiction #x reader #rhi writes 💻

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silver-screen-divas · 6 months

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Happy 89th birthday to Nancy Kovack!

Kovack played the female lead, bad girl Sophie Renault, opposite Mike Henry in “Tarzan and the Valley of Gold” (1966).

Born Nancy Diane Kovach on March 11, 1935, in Flint, Michigan, she attended the University of Michigan and worked as a radio announcer while winning a series of beauty contests. Kovack then moved to New York, where she worked as one of Jackie Gleason’s “Glea Girls” and served as a presenter on “Beat the Clock”, and as an anchorwoman on “Today” and for “The Dave Garroway Show”, while earning extra money through modeling and commercials.

A role on Broadway in “The Disenchanted” (1958-59) led to a Columbia Pictures contract, and her film debut, “Strangers When We Meet” (1960). Additional big-screen credits include “Cry for Happy” (1960), “The Wild Westerners” (1962), “Diary of a Madman” (1963), “Jason and the Argonauts” (1963), “The Outlaws Is Coming” (1965), “Sylvia” (1965), “The Great Sioux Massacre” (1965), “Frankie and Johnny” (1966), “The Silencers” (1966), “Enter Laughing” (1967), and “Marooned” (1969). On television, she appeared in popular series like “12 O’Clock High,” “Burke’s Law,” “I Dream of Jeannie,” “Batman,” “Perry Mason,” “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.,” “I Spy,” “Star Trek,” “The F.B.I.,” “Family Affair,” “Get Smart,” “Bewitched,” “Mannix,” “Hawaii Five-O,” “Get Smart,” “Bronk,” and “Cannon.”

Following her marriage to Los Angeles and New York Philharmonic Orchestra conductor Zubin Mehta, Kovack retired from acting.

#Nancy Kovack #beautiful #beauty #actress #hollywood #star #classic #diva #classic hollywood #vintage

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wlwcatalogue · 1 year

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Female Queer Icons of Hong Kong // Yam Kim Fai (任劍輝) and Pak Suet Sin (白雪仙)

Photo 1: Promotional photo for 1955 contemporary movie The Model and the Car (玉女香車) (no video available) (Source: LCSD Museum Collection Search Portal)

Photo 4: Photo from Sin Fung Ming Opera Troupe's 1958 trip

Photo 5: Photo from a 1962 newspaper feature on Yam, Pak, and others at their (?) summer villa in Central, Hong Kong

Photo 6: Christmas celebrations with Yam, Pak, and their protégés of the Chor Fung Ming Troupe

Far and away the most iconic duo in Cantonese opera, Yam Kim Fai (任劍輝) and Pak Suet Sin (白雪仙) – commonly referred to simply as Yam-Pak (任白) – were famed for their partnership both on and off the stage… Click below to learn more!

Edit on 28/07/2023: Updated to link to a photo of the entrance to the Hong Kong Heritage Museum’s Pop Culture 60+ exhibit, and to add information regarding Yam and Pak's marriage status.

Iconic? How?

Yam-Pak are the face of Cantonese opera; you can't talk about the latter without mentioning the former. It's to the point where a gigantic picture of them graces the entrance to the Hong Kong Heritage Museum’s permanent exhibition on Hong Kong pop culture’s evolution across the past 60 years (“Hong Kong Pop 60+”) - they are the first thing you see upon entering!

Best known as the originators - with Yam playing the male leads and Pak the female leads - of five masterpieces of Cantonese opera, namely:

1. Princess Cheung Ping (帝女花) 2. The Legend of the Purple Hairpin (紫釵記) 3. The Dream Tryst in the Peony Pavilion (牡丹亭驚夢) 4. The Reincarnation of Lady Plum Blossom (再世紅梅記) 5. Butterfly and Red Pear Blossom (蝶影紅梨記) (Note: Princess Cheung Ping, Purple Hairpin, and Butterfly and Red Pear Blossom were made into abridged movie versions, with the Sin Fung Ming troupe members reprising their roles from the theatre productions. Also, the "Fragrant Sacrifice" (香夭) duet from Princess Cheung Ping (movie clip) is one of - if not the most - famous songs in Cantonese opera.)

Yam and Pak were the leading pair and co-founders of the legendary Sin Fung Ming Opera Troupe (仙鳳鳴劇團; 1956-1961), which is widely held to have pushed Cantonese opera forward as an artform due to Pak and scriptwriter Tong Tik Sang’s (唐滌生) emphasis on poetic libretti and adapting source material from Chinese literature and history. (Note: it has been common practice since the 1930's for Cantonese opera troupes to be founded by key actor(s).)

They were also very active in the Hong Kong film industry in the 1950's, being paired in over 40 movies together across roughly 8 years. One of those – the aforementioned Butterfly and Red Pear Blossom (蝶影紅梨記) – is the sole Cantonese opera movie on the Hong Kong Film Archive’s 100-Must See Hong Kong Movies list (IMDB list / archived version of the official PDF). It's a well-deserved inclusion - check out this beautifully-shot dance scene.

Even their post-retirement activities had a significant effect on the industry! In the early 1960’s, they held auditions for prospective students and provided - for free - systematic, hands-on training to those who passed; Yam and Pak even hired other veterans to teach skills they personally were not as familiar with. Prior to this, apprentices were expected to learn primarily from observing their masters, and to pay handsomely for the privilege. Yam-Pak’s methods proved exceedingly effective: the Chor Fung Ming Opera Troupe (雛鳳鳴劇團; 1963-1992) starring their apprentices reigned supreme in the 1970’s-1980’s. Following this success, Cantonese opera institutes - most notably the major 1900s-era guild, the Chinese Artists Association of Hong Kong (八和會館) - started to offer systematic coaching to young hopefuls in the 1980's.

Okay, so why are they queer icons specifically?

The lazy answer is that they're queer icons because nearly all of Yam's roles were male, so Gender is involved by default, and since most hit Cantonese operas of the time were romances, that means you get to see two female actors performing being in love onscreen (and also on stage, but there aren't any video recordings from back then). So far, so Takarazuka Revue.

Female actors playing male roles in Cantonese opera To give some context, each Cantonese opera performer specialises in one of four major role-types, and Yam was a sung (生) - i.e. an actor specialised in playing standard male roles. Female sung were fairly common in the 1910's-1930's due to women being banned from performing with men during that period, but when the ban lifted in the mid-1930's, many troupes shifted towards cis-casting. Yam was pretty much the only one whose popularity survived the transition. Just take a look at the huge number of Cantonese opera movies produced during the 1950’s-1960’s – you’ll be hard-pressed to find a female sung other than Yam, let alone one with top billing. Happily, thanks to Yam's immense popularity, her profilic film career (over 300 movies!), and the prominence of Sin Fung Ming works in the Cantonese opera canon, there has been a resurgence in female sung which endures to this day. Two noteworthy examples are Yam's protégé Sabrina Lee/ Loong Kim Sang (龍劍笙) - a star in her own right - and Joyce Koi/ Koi Ming Fai (蓋鳴暉), one of the biggest names still active in the industry. (Note: perhaps due to cinema being more "realistic" in nature, Yam's early movies often involved her playing female characters cross-dressing as men, including in some Cantonese opera movies. However, she received increasingly more male roles as her fame grew, and from the mid-1950's onwards she was playing male characters onscreen nearly exclusively-- even in non-Cantonese opera movies! See Photo 1 above.)

What sets Yam and Pak apart is that they were particularly known for their chemistry. Long before Sin Fung Ming's formation in 1956, the advertising copy for their first Cantonese opera movie together - Frolicking with a Pretty Maid in the Wineshop (酒樓戲鳳, 1952) - declared "Only this movie has Yam-Pak flirting on the silver screen" (source - 華僑日報 1952/05/23-26). And indeed, they were popular for their flirtatious duets: their Cantonese opera works invariably contained at least one, and such scenes made it into some of non-Cantonese opera (i.e. "contemporary") movies too. In fact, there are not one but two contemporary movies where Yam and Pak's characters are not paired up and yet still sing a duet together in such a way that their significant other(s) become convinced that the two are in romantically interested in each other - see 1952's Lovesick (為情顛倒) and 1956's The Happy Hall (滿堂吉慶) - a weirdly specific situation which doesn't crop up in the other, non-Yam-Pak movies I have seen.

Speaking of contemporary movies, let's talk about a certain plotline that keeps cropping up in works featuring the both of them and where Yam plays a woman! Six of the eleven movies which fit that criteria involve Yam's character cross-dressing as a man (a common characteristic across Yam's handful of female roles), and Pak's character falling for her. Nothing ever comes of it, of course, but, um. It was certainly a trend. Actually, even their very first movie together - 1951's Lucky Strike (福至心靈) - falls into this category.

Such storylines, and the emphasis on their chemistry, are particularly interesting given that both Yam and Pak remained ostensibly unmarried throughout. This was unusual for female performers of their stature, who tended to wed in their twenties, often to fellow-actors or wealthy men (e.g. Hung Sin Nui/紅線女, Fong Yim Fun/芳艷芬, and Tang Pik Wan/鄧碧雲)... In contrast, by the time Yam-Pak retired from the stage in 1961, they were both over 30 years old and without husbands.

Also, did I mention they were popularly believed to be living together? There doesn't seem to be any conclusive evidence either way... although it's a little strange that separate newspaper pictorials depicting "Yam at home" and "Pak at home" seem to be of the same location... however what is conclusive is that they did spent a lot of time together offstage. Pak has talked about how when they had no guests over, Yam would watch TV by herself while Pak was in the living room (source - p93), and protégé Mandy Fung/ Mui Suet Sze (梅雪詩) has said that Pak would sometimes cook for Yam at home (source - 03:53~). They would also celebrate birthdays, New Year's, and Christmas together (see Photo 6 for an example of the latter).

Shortly after Yam's passing in 1989, Pak set up the Yam Kim Fai and Pak Suet Sin Charitable Foundation (任白慈善基金) to support the arts and provide welfare for the elderly. In 1996, Pak made a large donation to Hong Kong University, resulting in one of the buildings being renamed Yam Pak Building (任白樓) in thanks (source).

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to DM me or send an ask if you have any questions, or are just interested in learning more.

If you made it here, have this bonus piece of trivia - Yam and Pak were also well-acquainted with Hong Kong's preeminent queer icon, Leslie Cheung (張國榮), who was a massive fan of theirs. Sadly there don't seem to be any pictures of them before Yam's passing, but here's one of Pak (centre) having afternoon tea with Cheung (left) and his long-term romantic partner Daffy Tong (唐鶴德) (right) at the Cova cafe in the Pacific Place shopping mall.

#wlw recommendations #sapphic #lgbtq #asian lgbtq #hong kong #theatre #cantonese opera #chinese opera #yam kim fai #leslie cheung #pak suet sin #yampak #yambak #pak sheut sin #bak sheut sin #hong kong queer icons #not me hastily adding tags because i keep forgetting certain ones

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kjoy678 · 6 months

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Elvis as Toby 😮‍💨in "Follow that dream " 1962 😍😍😍❤️❤️❤️

#elvis presley

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projazznet · 3 months

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Thelonious Monk – Monk’s Dream (Full Album)

Monk’s Dream is the first album Thelonious Monk released on Columbia Records. It was recorded in 1962 and issued the following year.

Thelonious Monk – piano Charlie Rouse – tenor sax John Ore – bass Frankie Dunlop – drums

#theloniousmonk #piano #hardbop #projazz #projazznet

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seredelgi · 2 years

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Elvis Presley performing “Angel” in “Follow That Dream” (1962) + actress Anne Helm

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hooked-on-elvis · 6 months

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"Follow That Dream" (1962)

THE BANK SCENE - My favorite scene from this movie, which is also one of my favorite Elvis movie.

Elvis Presley (Toby Kwimper), Herbert Rudley (as Endicott), Howard McNear (as George) and Anne Helm (as Holly) in 'Follow That Dream' (1962). Red West is in the first picture, playing a bank's security guard, uncredited role.

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"Follow That Dream" (1962)

#i can't get over this scene #elvis presley #howard mcnear #herbert rudley #anne helm #follow that dream #1962 #elvis movies #60 movies #60s elvis #elvis #elvis the king #elvis fans #elvis fandom #elvis history #Youtube

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presleypictures · 2 years

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Follow That Dream, 1962.

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis history #elvis presley history #elvis photos #elvis presley photos #music history #movie history #follow that dream #elvis in the 60s #60s elvis #king of rock n roll #elvis aaron presley #1960s #1962

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gothhabiba · 1 year

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The arrival of Algerian independence in 1962 and, with it, the dream of constructing a new society ‘purified’ of its colonial past, resulted in popular acts of iconoclasm directed against the most visible expressions of French domination in the urban space. Independence was greeted in cities across Algeria by a symbolic reoccupation of the colonial townscape. Forced out initially by the military and subsequently by the civil authorities, the indigenous masses visibly manifested their victory by ‘returning’ to the spaces of symbolic power in cities, towns and villages across the country.45 In Algiers, all the major colonial monuments were covered with Algerian flags, most memorably in the case of Joan of Arc, who was ritualistically veiled in the traditional Algerian head covering, the haïk.46 The following month the most prominent vestiges of the colonial regime were targeted by popular mobs: the statues of Joan of Arc and the Algiers-born former Prime Minister René Viviani were symbolically beheaded before being toppled from their pedestals.47 This destruction or profanation of monuments was a means of ritualistically realising the passage from one world to the other, of publicly proclaiming the end of one era and the beginning of another.48

Dónal Hassett, "A Tale of Two Monuments: The War Memorials of Oran and Algiers and Commemorative Culture in Colonial and Post-Colonial Algeria." In Commemorating Race and Empire in the First World Word Centenary, pp. 151-68.

#Dónal Hassett #quote #readings #Algeria #France #colonialism #jeanne d'arc

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pullakori · 1 year

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Febuwhump 2023

Day 25. Assumed dead

TW: Questoning of one's sense of reality

When Erik returned to the school, it was almost midnight, so it wasn't surprising that the whole mansion was quiet. Even if someone was still awake, they stayed out of sight.

The day had been tiring and full of arguing with small minded humans while holding back the urge to stab them with the metal from their belts. He really should have let Hank go instead. But Erik had made a promise.

'You'll take care of my students for me, won't you?'

He hadn't answered back then, instead begging Charles not to go, not to leave him forever. But his friend's presence had dissappeared from his head no matter how he tried to hold onto it and Erik promised then, that he would do what Charles had asked from him with his last breath.

And that's why he had to be the one to speak to humans, only he could make sure that they didn't try anything and endanger the students. Even if that meant long days of whiny humans. Erik moved through the great hall, ready to collapse in his bed, but a light in the kitchen caught his eye through the door. It was better to see who was there and if it was a student, send them to bed.

As Erik made his way towards the kitchen, he could smell the sweet and bitter sent of cocoa and a sudden ache flared in his heart. It brought back too many memories of late evenings he and Charles had spent together in 1962. But he ignored it as well as he could and kept walking just before he made it to the slightly ajar door and heard it. Humming. Quiet and yet so familiar.

Erik all but slammed the door open and was frozen in place by the scene in front of him. The kitchen was warmly lit and at the stove, there was a kettle that most likely held the cocoa. But what truly shook him to his core was the man who was standing on his tiptoes so he could reach the cups on the upper shelf.

Charles looked just like he had the first time Erik had met him. Too long hair, comfortable old fashioned clothes and when he turned around and saw Erik, the same bright smile that made his eyes shine.

"Erik!" The younger man exclaimed and put the mug in his hand on the table, before turning back to the shelf. "Perfect timing, the cocoa is almost ready and I didn't really want to sit here alone." He chatted, seemilngly unaware of Erik's bewildered state.

This wasn't real, Erik thoughg to himself. He must have fallen asleep in his car and dreamed arriving back to the school. There was no other explanation. Unless this was a cruel joke by Mystique, but there was no way she would do this to Erik. Or maybe Erik had started to hallucinate.

"Erik, is everything alright?" Charles asked, he had gotten another mug for Erik from the cupboard and turned back to look at the other man, his eyes curious.

"Mystique?" Erik forced his mouth to work, just in case this was actually the shapeshifter, as he took few steps in the room. She certainly would know how to act like Charles. But the confused expression he was given was so spot on, he became sure that this was his friend. Or at least a memory of him.

"No? But should I be conserned that you think my sister might be disguising as me?" Charles asked, before his eyes became somewhat distant and he shook his head, smiling. "It's been a long time since she last did that."

While Charles seemed to be stuck in a far away memory, Erik pinched himself, because either he was dreaming of hallucinating and hopefully that would help him know which one. The pain stung his arm and it became clear, that he was, indeed, awake. The fact didn't comfort him at all. Damn, he needed some sleep.

"You look tired." Charles noticed, sounding conserned "Why don't you sit down and I pour us our cocoa." He pointed at one of the chairs at the table, before he moved to ket the kettle. Erik noticed himself following the suggestion only when he sat down on said seat.

"It's been difficult to keep this place together." He spoke up, suddenly fighting against tears. "I miss you every day." He confessed. This might not have been real Charles, but he had to say it. He wanted Charles to know.

Charles brought him the cup of cocoa before he sat down beside him with his own.

"You speak like I don't live here." He teased and Erik had to make sure, that he wouldn't lose his sense of reality entirely.

"But you don't." He noted, turning to look at the mirage of Charles. "You're not really here."

"What are you on about? Of course I am." Charles insisted, but there was a small tension in his voice.

"No Charles. You've been gone for years." Erik argued to remind himself that this wasn't real. He just hadn't expected Charles to look so heartbroken by his words.

"Erik... Why would you say that?" He asked, his voice trembling and Erik's first instinct was to try to comfort him. But there was no reason to do that. Charles wasn't real.

"Because it's the truth. You are not here." Erik told him and watched as Charles pushed himself up from the chair, looking almost afraid.

"Don't do this Erik." He begged, almost sobbed, tears gathering in his eyes. "Please don't make me leave. I don't want to wake up..."

"No!" Erik yelled. He had to stay strong or he would go completely mad. "You're not here! You're just in my head! This is not real!" Erik shouted with as much conviction as he could muster.

There was one last sob that seemed to echo in the room that turned dark and for a second, Charles' appearance changed. He looked older, tired with dark circles under his eyes, his head shaved and his skin gaunt and sickly pale, his clothes were just what reminded Erik of a hospital gown and it revealed his severly underweight body. And the worst of all, he looked at Erik with complete hopelessness.

And in a blink of an eye, the image of the telepath was gone, along with the smell of cocoa. The kitchen was dark and there was no mugs on the table or kettle on the stove. The whole room was asleep just like the rest of the manor.

But Erik was wide awake. The picture of Charles burned into his mind. There was no reason why he would have imagined Charles looking like that and his friend's words now rang in his ears. I don't want to wake up. It had to be true.

Charles was still alive and he had tried to reach out for Erik.

#i'm actually impressed with myself how quickly i managed to write this #charles whump #febuwhump 2023 #cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #my writing

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